The canal, this one, was dug at the turn of the century. Beneath the @3fondamenta@1 are the logs and mud of an incredible handshake. No sharp shadows are left. Buildings, dynamic yet so elusive they might be illusions, in winter light. Space unnatural? Over on the mainland, at Mestre, a redundant green wind, high whipping dresses against things. Cemented drain carries water on down toward the library but not quite that far. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAGRAPHS: 9 by HAYDEN CARRUTH RESURRECTION UPDATE by JAMES GALVIN JAWEH AND ALLAH BATTLE by ALLEN GINSBERG TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE UPON HEARING HIS 'SOME I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS..' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO BAYARD TAYLOR by SIDNEY LANIER CITIES OF THE PLAIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: GEORGE JOSLIN ON LA MENKEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |